(navigation image)
Home Audio Books & Poetry | Community Audio | Computers & Technology | Grateful Dead | Live Music Archive | Music, Arts & Culture | Netlabels | News & Public Affairs | Non-English Audio | Podcasts | Radio Programs | Spirituality & Religion | The Shady Trees
Search: Advanced Search
Anonymous User (login or join us)
Upload

Listen to audio

item image

Stream (help[help])

VBR M3U (Hi-Fi)
64Kbps M3U (Lo-Fi)

Play / Download (help[help])

(1.6 M)64Kbps MP3 ZIP
(4.1 M)VBR ZIP

Ogg Vorbis

All Files: HTTPS

Resources

Bookmark

Edwin BoothOthello by Edwin Booth (1890)

something has gone horribly wrong 8-p
Prefer flash? · Embed · Questions/Feedback?

Othello by Edwin Booth (1890)

Edwin Booth was the brother of John Wilkes Booth who assassinated Abraham Lincoln.


This audio is part of the collection: 78 RPMs & Cylinder Recordings
It also belongs to collection: Music, Arts & Culture

Artist/Composer: Edwin Booth
Keywords: Edwin Booth


Individual Files

Whole Item FormatSize
OthelloByEdwinBooth1890_64kb.m3u 64Kbps M3U Stream
OthelloByEdwinBooth1890_64kb_mp3.zip 64Kbps MP3 ZIP 1.6 MB
OthelloByEdwinBooth1890_vbr.m3u VBR M3U Stream
OthelloByEdwinBooth1890_vbr_mp3.zip VBR ZIP 4.1 MB
Audio Files VBR MP3 Ogg Vorbis 64Kbps MP3
Othello (1890) 4.1 MB
2.1 MB
1.6 MB
Information FormatSize
OthelloByEdwinBooth1890_files.xml Metadata [file]
OthelloByEdwinBooth1890_meta.xml Metadata 613.0 B
OthelloByEdwinBooth1890_reviews.xml Metadata 3.7 KB

Write a review
Downloaded 2,432 times
Reviews
Average Rating: 2.00 out of 5 stars2.00 out of 5 stars

Reviewer: Nosenod - 2.00 out of 5 stars2.00 out of 5 stars - August 26, 2008
Subject: Needs cleanup
A valuable recording, but the current file sounds like a recitation from behind a running woodchipper. Booth's tone and lilt come through, along with some choice word pronunciations, but the words are virtually unintelligible without a libretto.

So here's a complete libretto, (give or take a few textual variations), wherein Booth recites selected lines from Act 1. Scene III:

Othello

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approved good masters,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true; true, I have married her:
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace:
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action in the tented field,
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,
And therefore little shall I grace my cause
In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration and what mighty magic,
For such proceeding I am charged withal,
I won his daughter.

Then Booth skips some dialog from other characters
and finishes with:

Her father loved me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have passed.
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it;
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field
Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach,
Of being taken by the insolent foe
And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence
And portance in my travels' history:
Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,
Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven
It was my hint to speak,--such was the process;
And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline:
But still the house-affairs would draw her thence:
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not intentively: I did consent,
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:
She swore, in faith, twas strange, 'twas passing strange,
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:
She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me,
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story.
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
And I loved her that she did pity them.

http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Othello